The End of the World is Nigh
by fringeperson
Summary: One Apocalypse is averted in one world. A new Apocalypse is being created in another. Rogue is the key to both of them. oneshot, complete, don't own.


Ever since the whole 'Apocolypse' ordeal, everybody was being sent on one-on-one training trips with the Wolverine. Everybody else at the Mansion had already gone out with him. It was being staggered of course. It had to be. There was only one Wolverine, after all. One weekend, one person. Scott had gone first, and he'd come back more humble, less stick-up-his-ass, and covered in dirt. He'd also come back thinner. Jean had been the next one, and she'd come back thinner too. She'd proceeded to steal Kitty's choc-chip ice cream and hog the bathroom for two hours as soon as she'd stumbled through the door. Kitty had been the third one taken out. When she'd come back, Jean had been waiting for her with a brand new tub of the same ice cream – which she'd paid for, a sort of round-about apology for having stolen the previous pint.

After Kitty had been Kurt, then Spike, and so on and so forth through the students, all of them coming back from their weekend with the Wolverine thinner, dirtier, and with something, some random aspect about them improved. Scott was more humble, Jean was more grateful, Kitty was less afraid, Kurt was calmer, Spike was less impulsive... until only one was left.

Her. The Rogue.

She'd seriously been beginning to think it wouldn't happen at all. After all, the newer kids had all been sent on the two-day one-on-one trip with the Wolverine before her. The other 'X-men', the other kids who were already on the team – _like her_ – had all had their turns first.

So why had she been left?

Was it because they didn't think she could handle it for some reason? Was it her skin? Was it that, even after how long she'd been with them, that they still didn't trust her? Did the Wolverine just not want to put up with her for that amount of time?

No, it wasn't likely to be that last one. She got along alright with the Wolverine. Had ever since the first time he'd met her coming out of the Danger Room while he was going in.

"What were you doin' in there?" he'd asked.

"It's a quiet place where I can hit stuff," she'd answered.

He'd chuckled at that, nodded in understanding, and invited her to try hitting something a bit harder, namely him. After that, any time either of them was headed to the Danger Room for some quiet time, they'd take a moment to invite the other. Sometimes it was yes, sometimes it was no, but there was never any hard feelings between them about whatever the answer was, or who came out best from their time _in_ the Danger Room – and it wasn't always the Wolverine, which had really impressed him.

Sometimes, just occasionally, they'd even take a few minutes after they'd finished hitting stuff to talk about what got them in a mood that just wanted to make something else suffer.

Come to think of it, she'd received a _lot_ of invitations during the weeks between the one-on-one weekends the Wolverine had to take the other kids out on.

Was it because of... In all honesty, there was really no knowing how many different mutants, how many different mutations, how many different powers she had been manipulated into 'collecting' by Mesmiro. Not even Rogue knew, and she'd felt them being passed on from herself to Apocolypse – and she could still feel all of them under her skin. A couple she knew for sure were Kurt's, Scott's, and even Scott's brother. She had woken up from a nightmare she couldn't remember, teleported down to the cliff ledge where they practised rescues, and with a scream into the sky she'd released a massive laser-blast from her eyes and hands.

She didn't know what all the powers were that she had collected. But she did know she still had them.

"Grab your toothbrush Stripes," instructed Logan when she returned from school on Friday, which also happened to be the last day of term. "It's finally your turn."

Rogue grinned and dashed up to her room. She dumped her backpack, grabbed her big coat, and – as instructed – her toothbrush. By now, it was well known that grabbing more than that would see her sent back. Scott had tried to take a backpack of gear, and had been told in the hall to take out his toothbrush and leave the rest. Jean had tried the same, and been told the same. Kitty had begged a coat as well as her toothbrush, and been permitted, and Kurt had just grabbed a thick jacket, his toothbrush, and checked that his image inducer would survive the weekend. The message was well and truly sunk in, though the kids _were_ given time to get changed, if they felt the need. Still, there was no extra underwear, no soap. They were allowed only the clothes on their back, whatever random stuff might have happened to be in their pockets (an advantage not had by those who took the time to get changed), and a toothbrush.

When she returned to where Logan was waiting for her, he passed her a helmet and they headed out to his motorcycle.

Four hours out, there was an accident.

Logan was a sure hand on the motorcycle, and for that matter, so was Rogue, but sometimes accidents really do happen. It wasn't anybody's fault, unless Mesmiro had somehow gotten control of Storm, or another mutant with similar control over the weather.

They were caught in a lightning storm as they were approaching the coast, and, being metal and very attractive to lightning, even if they weren't quite the highest point of contact, Logan and the bike (and Rogue right along with them) got zapped.

The bike was, unfortunately, killed. Massive amounts of electric heat combined with a combustion engine? Yeah, no. Not a good mix. It was probably possible to fix, but there was no way they'd be able to just get it upright, turn the key and expect it to work. The Wolverine, thanks to his healing, was still breathing even though, thanks to his adamantium-laced skeleton he was in _serious_ pain. Rogue... wasn't. Breathing. The weekend survival, one-on-one trip out with Logan wasn't meant to _kill_ the students, and Logan forced his pain-wracked body over to where the girl was lying in a puddle, not breathing, and wrenched a glove off with his teeth.

"Come on Stripes," he growled at her, half-ordering and half-begging as he cupped her face in his hand. "I need to feel your skin pullin' me in. I'm not losin' you, Rogue."

It took a few seconds, but her skin _did_ kick in, and the girl drew in a shuddering gasp of life-giving breath as Logan gave his own, pain-filled grunt. Five meters from the smoking bike, side by side, alive, breathing, and in terrible pain... They both passed out on the side of the road.

~oOo~

Rogue woke up first. One hand went to her pounding head while she pushed herself off the ground with the other. A soft crunch and a sudden, sharp sensation of freezing and wet made her look down sharply. Snow. She'd just planted her hand in a pile of snow. Of course, having actually opened her eyes, she was also aware of the Wolverine lying face-down in the same wet, cold, white stuff that was beneath her.

She scrambled over to him, shivering all the way and very thankful that she'd grabbed her big brown coat before her mad dash out the door for her one-on-one weekend with the big guy.

Gloved hand over covered shoulder, Rogue turned him over and started shaking him.

"Logan," she called softly. "Logan, wake up. We got a problem."

Because they hadn't been in the mountains when they'd been caught by that lightning, and they most certainly hadn't been anywhere near snow. It was only just summer vacation! She was _supposed_ to be sweating in her layers and regretting her choice of "largest and most pocket-filled coat in her wardrobe" by now!

A low growl sounded from beyond the small area that Rogue had scanned when she looked around, and now she jerked her head up.

It looked kind of like a wolf, only it was bigger, hairier, its eyes were glowing, and it kind of brought to mind the 'wolf form' of werewolves and lycans insofar as popular culture might represent them.

Without even thinking, Rogue growled back, showing off fangs that, a moment before, she hadn't had. At the same time, claws replaced her fingernails and her hair, normally in a tidy bob, grew long down to the small of her back.

She knew this feeling. This was Sabertooth's mutation. Thankfully without the extra fur this time around. Thankfully _with_ the suddenly pronounced musculature. The long hair was a bit of a nuisance, but she could live with it. She wasn't going to have to shave her legs with a man's beard-trimmer again too soon at least.

The wolf-on-steroids only growled louder, even snarled and snapped. Thankfully, it didn't get any closer just yet.

Beneath her – and it was beneath. Rogue had moved into a defensive crouch over the still-comatose Wolverine. Beneath her, a deep moan sounded.

"Stripes, what the hell are you growlin' for?" Logan demanded.

"Wolf," Rogue answered shortly as she shifted so he could move out from under her without toppling her.

"The hell?" the Wolverine demanded, rolling onto his feet – hearing the crunch and feeling the wet chill of the snow as he did. "Well, shit," he grumbled, and unsheathed his claws.

The wolf-on-steroids lunged. That was its first mistake. Its second, was its choice of target; the Rogue. Now, okay, the Wolverine was the one with the massive metal claws, but the Rogue was the one with the skin that would suck out the animal's life force on contact, and she'd already peeled her gloves off as soon as she'd felt her fingernails turning into claws. She hadn't necessarily been _aware_ of that action, but she'd done it.

There was also the fact that, for all that Rogue _looked_ the more fragile of the two, she was well trained in a tidy little collection of fighting styles, had learned more by absorbing various people and mutants – friend and foe alike – and she was currently enhanced by the strength of Sabertooth.

Even if her skin hadn't been deadly, her hands were. She snapped the animal's neck with a body-wrenching twist when it came at her, allowing the momentum to carry the now dead beast past her and into the snow behind her.

"Rogue?" Logan asked carefully as he sheathed his claws. "You okay, Stripes?"

"Yeah," Rogue answered, and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "I'm gonna see if I can salvage the bike," she said.

"So you've got Magneto? Can you actually call up his powers on-demand?" Logan asked as he followed her over to the machine that was half-covered in the otherwise pristine white snow. "You haven't done it on purpose once yet that I know of."

"... Yeah," Rogue said again as she raised a hand and the motorcycle lifted into the upright position without either of them touching it. "Yeah, I think I can do this."

A howling sounded in the distance, and the Wolverine's eyes went wide when the _dead_ wolf shook its head and stood up. Rogue was too busy fixing the bike, so he was left to kill the animal a second time. And then the second wolf that had also come along.

"Dammit!" Rogue swore softly.

"Stripes?"

"No gas," she explained shortly and without turning, her focus still on the motorcycle. "I'm going to have to re-plumb the whole damn thing to not _need_ gas."

Logan blinked as he took that in. "What would it run on then?"

Rogue shook her head. "Trial and error," she answered with a grim but determined frown.

"Damn."

"Exactly."

Fixing the bike up took long enough for the Wolverine to confirm that they were most definitely _not_ where they had been, or anywhere he recognised for that matter – their communicators didn't work, and he couldn't even contact the professor, though they _had_ still been within his range when they'd been struck by lightning. They were both thoroughly cold by the time Rogue figured out their smaller, more immediate problem, but she was able to make the bike run on electricity – electricity that she could generate using Storm's powers, though thankfully she didn't have to be the battery for the bike, just the jump-starter.

The first place they came to, they knocked on the door.

"Excuse me?" Rogue called through the large door. "We're lost. Could ya help us?"

The door opened to reveal a man in a smart, navy-blue suit with a very serious expression on his face... and a gun in his hand.

"No need for that Bub," Logan said as he eyed the piece and pulled Rogue behind himself for her own safety. "We just want to borrow a map."

"What neophite is disturbing me now?!" demanded another voice from behind the sharply dressed man.

"Lost travellers, Professor Hojo," answered the man in the suit with a sort of neutrality that suggested he'd rather give any other answer.

"Really?" enquired the same voice, and a man with long, greasy hair tied back in a low horse-tail appeared, placing spectacles on his pointed nose as he came into view. "Wonderful! Do _invite_ them in, Valentine!" he instructed with an eager smile and an unpleasant sort of emphasis on the word 'invite'.

The man in the suit, Valentine apparently, winced minimally but ushered the two of them in through the door and out of the cold.

"I am sorry for your fates," said Valentine, his voice low as he closed the door behind them.

His apology was the last thing either of them heard before they were stuck with a needle by an unseen assailant and their vision went dark.

~oOo~

"... specimens 'F' and 'M' have been acquired, and after a brief incident after the initial sedative wore off, the decision has been made that both will be kept sedated at all times for the sake of the safety of myself and the dunderheads assisting me in my research..."

"... skin contact with specimen 'F' causes extreme pain and fainting. I posit the theory that the pain caused by this contact may be enough to kill a person if that contact is sufficiently prolonged. Specimen 'V' will be the test subject..."

"... specimen 'V' died due to extended contact with the skin of specimen 'F'. A phoenix down was used, successfully, to revive it, though there seem to be interesting side-effects. Likely a result of Crescent's experiments..."

"... specimens 'F' and 'M' both show remarkable regenerative capabilities, though specimen 'M' is the superior of the two. There is no need to use a materia at all. I will attempt to splice the genes of specimen 'M' with specimen 'S'..."

"... specimen 'M' rejected the introduction of JENOVA cells into its system. Conversely, specimen 'F' is absorbing the JENOVA cells and integrating them in a manner superior to any of my previous gene-splicing. Could it be that females, such as specimen 'F' are more compatible with JENOVA? Further investigation is required..."

"... despite my best efforts, specimen 'V' continues to survive. Crescent's experiments seem to make it resistant to my more terminal attempts at tinkering with its genetic make-up..."

"... specimen 'M' has a metal alloy coating every one of his bones. I do not know what the metal is, or how it came to so comprehensively cover his skeleton, but I do know that it simply _ruins_ all of my tools when I try to remove it. It is most frustrating, as it means that I cannot get into its brain except through the nasal and ocular cavities, and really, that's just so infuriatingly limited..."

"... specimen 'F' continues to cause pain to all it touches skin-to-skin. Even an accidental brushing is enough to cause extreme vertigo. It is a vexing problem when conducting experiments in a smaller lab..."

"... specimen 'S' is a success. I must clone it. It would not do for my triumph to be damaged accidentally while I am testing further improvements, yet it must be an exact genetic match, or the testing will have minor variables that _I can not risk_..."

"... Crescent has taken off. Foolish woman forgot her scientific integrity and began to think of specimen 'S' as _her son_. What nonsense! If any being could possibly claim parentage to specimen 'S' then far more likely that being should be JENOVA..."

"... specimen 'V', being of no further interest to me, has been shut away in one of the coffins in the basement of the ShinRa Mansion here in Nibelheim..."

"... specimen 'S' came into contact with specimen 'F' today. It neither cried out in pain, nor displayed any sign of dizziness. It certainly did not faint. However, when I attempted to touch specimen 'F', I felt the same pain and experienced the same fainting that was evident when specimen 'F' first came into my possession. Perhaps it is the JENOVA cells..."

"... in testing specimen 'F', specimen 'M' did not seize in pain. This eliminates the JENOVA cells as the source of immunity. I also had specimen 'V' retrieved to test with, and again the specimen displayed no evidence of pain. Yet I and my assistants continue to convulse and faint when we have even the briefest accidental contact with the specimen. It is possible that the specimen has found a way to control its ability to cause pain in this way, despite being kept drugged at all times..."

"... specimen 'M' is accepting pure, condensed mako now, though it continues to reject the JENOVA cells..."

"... specimen 'F' is also accepting the mako, however, with the introduction of mako, the JENOVA cells are mutating..."

"... the president, aware of my successes with specimen 'S', has requested it for use in his war in Wutai. It will be sent one week from now. Fortunately I have clones that I may continue testing..."

"... both specimens 'M' and 'F' have displayed an unprecedented affinity for mako in its purest form. I cannot help but wonder how they would react to materia. I haven't even had materia in the same room as these two yet, since they did not require magic to heal after my other experiments..."

~oOo~

Something was calling to her. She knew this call. She'd seen the effects of this call. It was warmth, and it was life, and it was light, and it was heat, and death, and black marks left behind. It was the call of _fire_.

Something else called as well. She knew _this_ call as well, and seen what it could do. It was cool, and relief, and it was days outside playing in a world of white before going inside to curl up with a book. It was cold, and it was unforgiving, and it was hard and fragile and it could kill you as you slept. It was the call of _ice_.

A third call joined the first two. Oh, and this call, _this_ call she knew best of all, because she had known it longer than the first two. It was hot, fast and destructive, but it also ionised and allowed things to grow, though it didn't, on its own, encourage that. It was the pulse that flowed through everything in greater and lesser parts. It was freedom. It was the call of _lightning_.

Something from within her called back. Something that had been forced into her by the sociopath who had brutalised her for she couldn't even remember how long. Despite the pain it had caused her at first, it was something that was good, and had been filling her head with knowledge of things far greater and stranger than she had ever known before. It called back in remembrance.

Something else, also forced upon her by the sociopath, something that had at first screamed for destruction, but which she had tamed, called out as well. It called from within her and from without, being present physically elsewhere, as well as having been claimed by her mind. It called out for revenge.

She listened, carefully isolating all of the calls that pressed in on her mind. All the voices that she heard that weren't hers. The voices that she heard within her own mind, and the voices that she could hear from beyond it.

A child begged to be rescued from being forced to kill, rescued from the orders that he would soon be sent off to a war he knew nothing of – even if being sent off to war would save him from the interminable tests and injections.

A man begged for redemption and forgiveness, begged for peace, though he felt he deserved only suffering and torment for his many failures.

A friend begged _her_ to be alright, to still be whole when (not if, he refused to think 'if') he broke free and could come to her, though he didn't know what he would do once he got them both out – and he would get them out. He _would_. He hoped that she would still know him, hoped that she would still be as strong as he remembered. He didn't even give thought to the possibility that she might be dead, didn't let himself worry about where they would go once they were out.

A faraway, multitudinous echo begged to be saved, to be protected, to be loved.

She answered their calls.

~oOo~

Hojo had ordered his assistants to move specimens 'F' and 'M' to a reinforced testing room, but he had brought the tray of materia himself. In fact, he had equipped them. He didn't intend to give the materia to the specimens. They were kept unconscious at all times, so there would be no point really. No, he intended to see what their reactions were to being subjected to the magic of the materia. He would cast the lowest level spells of each a Fire, an Ice, and a Lightning materia on his specimens, and record their reactions before he progressed to the next level of spells.

He was just about to take his stance in front of specimen 'F' when its eyes snapped open, against all expectations and its drug dosage. Also out of the ordinary, its eyes (which he had peripherally been aware were a muted grey-ish green colour from the pupil-checks after certain tests, not even the JENOVA cells had changed that, oddly enough) were solidly white. No iris or pupil at all, just pure white.

The Lightning materia on his wrist reacted. A Bolt3 just jumping away from the materia and into all of his sensitive equipment, over-loading and completely frying the lot.

It even made the electric lights explode.

Then, in the dark, Hojo felt the Ice respond. Only he hadn't called on it. If the lights had still been on, he would have seen that the two specimens were encased in roomy boxes of ice. If the lights and cameras in the room where he kept specimen 'S' were working, then it would have been recorded that another such box of ice wrapped around him as he slept fitfully, equally anticipating and dreading the next morning when he was to be shipped off to war. Deep in the bowels of the mansion, where the discarded and forgotten specimen 'V' was sleeping in its coffin, one more box of ice formed. Around the coffin that contained specimen 'V'.

Then the Fire sparked and grew and lit up the room with the eerie glow of hungry flames that consumed all in their path. Equipment that shouldn't have been able to burn, floorboards, walls, metal furniture melted. Out of the flames, a dragon formed itself. A dragon of fire, breathing fire, though Hojo had barely a moment to process this, as the dragon spread its wings of flame and bent its glowing head to be level with his own.

A massive, fiery jaw opened, and closed over the professor. He was the first casualty of many that night. The night that the ShinRa Mansion in Nibelheim, and the extensive sub-basement labs beneath it, burned down.

~The End~


End file.
